Hard Sell
Outside Kingman, Arizona

Thursday sunrise and in the back of the speeding mobile home, Jennifer’s mouth gaped. She did that thing where her head dropped and the movement woke her and she’d lift her chin and then eventually it would drop again and again and again.

I sat there feeling dirty. Unclean, I mean. My hair was greasy, my scalp itchy. Never in my life had I so wanted a shower. Mum would have been proud.

A man with an English accent spoke about the ‘Manises UFO incident’. It was a podcast and I swear the presenter said ‘or was it?’ after every statement he made about how this UFO was probably lights from a local factory or Venus or whatever.

Or was it?

I must have fallen back asleep because suddenly the RV had stopped and the cab was empty and there was no voice talking about extra-terrestrial visitors. The sky was definitely lighter. What was happening? Had the ufologists been abducted?

‘Coffee stop,’ said John, standing outside at the open living-space door like he’d teleported there. ‘Gooood morning to you both. What a day for it.’

I shook Jennifer’s shoulder. There was no gradual coming to for her, no moment of confusion – as soon as her eyes opened, she unbuckled and was up and out, holding the urn bag close to her chest. I followed her, my head feeling like it was stuffed with fluffy sheep.

I was expecting to step into an American version of a service station or, at least, one of the food courts I’d already visited over here. (Could I manage another burger? For breakfast? Duh, of course.) Instead we were greeted by a huge sign that read ARMCO GAS in stylised white lettering.

‘Arizona,’ said Jennifer. ‘This is as fun as it gets around here.’

‘It looks like a Western,’ I said, taking in the morning of sand-coloured dust and odd clumps of balding grass, and immediately wished I hadn’t because it reminded us of the Cowboy on our trail.

‘Ten minutes and return to the road?’ asked John like we were on a school trip. A breeze whipped at his cap. ‘And if you want to be eating, there are better places in Vegas.’

Already his two mates were walking towards the single-storey brick building that, alongside petrol pumps and a couple of white Armco Gas tanks, was the only thing here and maybe even in the rest of Arizona. Mary was taking pictures. Richard was grumbling.

Jennifer held back until they’d disappeared inside, an old-style bell ringing as they passed through. She turned. And, as she looked me up and down, she stifled a laugh.

‘What?’

But I knew what.

I pulled off my clown top and threw it to the floor. Feeble dust clouds rose. And I took off my trousers and chucked these too, just about keeping my balance as I pulled them over my trainers. And, with this top layer off, I wouldn’t say I was warm but it was defo hotter here. About the same temperature as a disappointing summer’s day in Somerset.

‘You’re going to need to bring those with you,’ she said.

‘Why?’

Okay, so there was a fleck of anger to my voice. She always knew best.

‘Partly not to be traced, bae. But mostly because it’s littering and you might get a fine. But, you know, totally up to you.’

I scooped the satin from the Arizonan dirt, muttering how nobody likes a know-it-all.

She held up the bag. The broken edges of the urn pushed against the plastic. I shoved in the clown clothes. She kept hers on.

‘We can get some new threads here,’ she said. ‘We’re rich, remember. Gucci, baby!’

‘About that …’

‘An advance on my inheritance. It’s what Mom would have wanted.’

Inside was like a museum shop. Jennifer was straight over to the hoodies and jumpers that had ‘Navajo Nation’ splashed across them. She asked what colour I wanted. I said blue. She said not to be so predictable. I wandered away to study shelves of ‘genuine’ arrows.

I felt a presence at my shoulder. I lifted an arrow. It could do some damage, whistling through the air. The thing about guns is they’re so loud. I’d hate to be hit by an arrow, silent like a gas leak.

‘How about we get this? There are no bows, so you’d just have to jab people with it.’

I did some air-jabbing. It felt satisfying.

‘We sell bows too, friend. Good morning to you. And a mighty fine morning it is too. You ever get that feeling that it’s going to be a great day?’ It wasn’t Jennifer. It was a man with a pink face like he’d been out in the sun too long. He was wearing a green polo shirt with a badge that said DAVE. He was also sniffing at the air. ‘Like you could almost smell it?’

I put the arrow back. ‘Yep,’ I said. ‘Anyway. Sorry.’

‘We have guns too.’ Dave leant into me. His nose almost touched mine. One thing I could smell was his breath. It smelt of coffee, and faintly of alcohol. ‘But you’re probably too young for all that. He straightened his back. ‘How old are you?’

‘Too young.’

Dave smiled, revealing teeth that looked like they’d been carved from ivory.

‘You want to see something super sweet? Follow me.’

We walked a line of shelves and came to a jewellery display. He lifted a necklace. It was a black string with a tiny silver horse attached to it.

‘You’ve got a sweetheart, right? A handsome kid like you. Lucky son of a …’ His voice faded. Briefly he seemed lost. ‘I’ll tell you what. She’d love you for this. Or he. It’s 2019. Anyhow, it’s a good-luck charm. Who doesn’t like good luck? Am I right?’

A card price tag hung from it. $150. I pointed at some fabric wristbands.

‘What about them?’

‘Friendship bracelets,’ said Dave. ‘For kids. You’re no kid. I can see that by the way you hold yourself. Straight back. Proud shoulders. Tell you what, maybe we could discuss a deal on that good-luck pendant? A discount between buddies.’

Jennifer appeared with a (new) plastic bag – she’d obviously already paid.

‘What’s going on?’ she asked, face set to full sass.

‘This man—’

Dave interrupted. ‘The name’s Dave.’

Jennifer looked confused.

‘I’m Dave,’ he confirmed.

I couldn’t work out whether he was being polite or PO’d. His voice was weirdly without tone.

‘Dave’s showing me good-luck charms. Expensive ones.’

‘You can’t put a price on good luck,’ he said. ‘That’s what Mother Dave always used to say. They allow jewellery in the circus, sweetheart?’

Jennifer swept her headlight eyes from me to Dave.

‘Please don’t call me sweetheart,’ she said. ‘It’s creepy. We’re going, Jacob.’

She swung the two bags she held in her good hand. I’m not sure she meant to hit me between the legs, but she did. I let out air with a sound like ‘ooof’.

Dave sniggered and Jennifer, rolling her eyes, sighed like I was the problem.

‘Have a great one,’ called Dave from behind us. ‘Good luck!’

‘Don’t they have stores in England?’ said Jennifer as we left. ‘You never been in a store before?’